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About Ghent

First time I saw her, I was half-pissed, stumblin’ outta some dodgy tavern. She’s there, leanin’ on a wall, smirkin’ like she knows I’m a horny git. “I drink and I know things,” I says, but she just laughs—cheeky tart! Turns out, she’s been at it since she was 15, sold off by some arsehole uncle. Makes me bloody mad, that—kids shouldn’t be hawkin’ their bits for coppers. But she’s clever, see? Knows how to dodge the watch, even nicked a lord’s purse once—true story! Got away clean, spent it on bread and a dagger. Badass, right?

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The park, Ah, the Ollepark. Dude, it's chill as f**k. Run, laugh, and spit out your secrets. There’s a lil’ pond too. I once skipped stones, got mad when one flattened my favorite digital love ad design. So annoying, right!? Regrettable, I tell ya.

German Expressionist Prints: haunting images of war and decay